Christmas
by georgialouise
Summary: A look at the Winchester's life during one Christmas. Pre-series story. Sick John,  Sick Dean.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first time posting any fanfiction story. I wrote this for myself a while ago and I decided to post it. Therefore, I apologize for any grammar mistakes and for the length!_

It was late, it was cold and John was tired. December in Maine was bitter and damp, making every joint in his body ache. He flicked off the head lights and opened the driver side door to the Impala. It was 1 am on Wednesday morning, and after being gone for two sleepless days he was dying to crawl into bed. If he made it that far.

John knocked three times on the door to room 207 of the Rainbow End Motel. Waited a second, then he knocked three more times. From inside he heard a clinking and rattling of the deadbolt and lock being turned, and the door opened to reveal his eight year old standing before him in sweatpants and one of John's heavy flannel shirts. Dean was also wearing gray wool socks that were pulled up over his sweats. John rubbed his bleary eyes and smiled wearily at Dean's form as he stepped over the salt that had been placed across the door frame.

"Daaddy," John was attacked by his running four year old son, who after acquiring the target, had latched himself to John's leg and buried his face in the blue jeans.

"Hey Sammy," John croaked.

He bent down and picked up the pyjama clad child, and looked him over. Messy hair, cheeks a rosy colour and puffy eyes that looked just as sleepy as John felt himself.

"Did I wake you? Are you feeling better?" He asked. Sam had been getting over a pretty nasty cold when he left on Monday afternoon.

Sam nodded to both. "Dean and me watched a dinosaur movie. It was cool. There was a tyrannn…"

"Sammy, tomorrow okay?" John interrupted, more relieved than anything that he was not returning to the snotty, sick child he had left. "I need some sleep, you do too."

"Kay."

John let Sam crawl down his side and watched as he climbed into the double bed furthest to the door where his brother was curled up under the blankets. John hadn't even noticed Dean returning to bed. He glanced at the door and saw Dean had relocked the deadbolt. He reached over and flicked the lights and collapsed into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came and sun rose with it. Along with the sun rose Sam. John heard a 'Clink..clink...Crash' from the little kitchenette in the room. He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to feel less like he had been run over by a train.

"Dean?" He croaked. His throat felt raw and sort of swollen and the six hours of sleep had done nothing to ease the headache he had fallen asleep with.

No answer from the sleeping mound in the bed next to him. Sam was in the standing on a chair at the table, box of cereal in one hand and a carton of milk in the other. John assessed the cereal situation, sat up and pulled himself out of the stupor he had awoken in.

"Sammy, need some help bud?"

"Nope!"

The four year old's tongue was sticking out between his lips and his eyes were squinting in concentration as he poured the milk. When he was done he carefully walked across the room intensely guarding the bowl against spills.

"Want some?" Sam placed the bowl on the night table next to the plastic flowered lamp.

"Not yet.." John's next thought was interrupted by something caught in his throat, causing him to cough.

Remembering the snottiest, least restful weekend ever, John reached to Sam and cupped a calloused hand across his forehead and one behind his neck. He was relieved to find his temperature still normal as when he had left on Monday morning. John quickly looked Sam over and noted the healthy pink cheeks and clear eyes and the still chapped skin around his nose.

"You must be feeling better."

"Yup! Remember last night I told you about the Tyrannnn…"

"Sam tooo..ehh ehh.. early kiddo."

Sam sniffed and looked at him pensively, eyes narrowing. "Are we staying here after Christmas?"

Christmas. That was 2 days away wasn't it? John's mind was cloudy. Yes. He needed both presents, and a plan. He had neither.

"I think we are going to South Dakota, see your uncle Bobby maybe.." John trailed off, as an overwhelming pressure in his sinuses intensified. "Eshhoooo! Atchhooo! Egh. Give me a sec."

John stumbled to the bathroom and grabbed some toilet paper blowing his nose long and hard. The standing had multiplied how fucking shitty he felt. The mirror greeted him with two day old stubble, and puffy, watery, blood shot eyes. He was definitely sick. His mouth felt gross and gummy so he grabbed a toothbrush and ran the toothpaste over his teeth and tongue.

When he returned, Sam was standing in front of the TV, spooning Lucky Charms into his mouth and watching some cartoon John didn't recognize. John surveyed the room wondering what seemed out of place. Then it dawned on him, Dean. Why was Dean still asleep? Dean was usually up with Sam, making the breakfast, entertaining him, and after John returned from a hunt, Dean would usually be up, ready to pack his and Sam's belongings in anticipation of a rushed departure. But this morning, Dean was curled up, blankets wrapped around his head, covering every inch of his body.

"Dean!" John's voice sounded gravelly and rough. "Dean!" he spoke louder.

The blanket mound moved. Dean's face poked out of the blanket and John saw what he had been hoping he wouldn't. Dean's face was flushed and his eyes mirrored John's. His nose was red and truth be told he looked miserable. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a barking cough. John sat down on the bed and waited for his son to catch his breath as he put a hand to Dean's forehead. Too warm he gauged. Shit. John remembered the sweats and shirt and socks that Dean was wearing as pyjamas last night.

"You cold?"

Dean barely looked up. "A little," he mumbled.

"Yeah it looks like you have whatever Sammy had.." John sighed. He hadn't even noticed Dean last night; he was probably running a fever even then. "Lets see if there is any Tylenol left."

He rummaged through the green army duffel on the floor and came up empty.

"Eshoooo!" Sitting up had obviously rearranged what ever was clogging up the kid's head and he sniffed loud and miserably.

"Is Dean sick too?" John looked down and Sam had abandoned his cartoons and was standing next to him.

"Looks like." Two days from Christmas, John had the beginnings of a head cold himself and now Dean was also down. Guilt washed over him as he wished that he could just go back to sleep and wake up after Christmas in better health and not have to deal with the boys.

"My medicine is in the bathroom," Sam said helpfully, knocking John out of his self pitying thoughts.

John walked into the bathroom for the second time and grabbed the Children's Tylenol from the counter, there was about on spoonful left. John's head throbbed. He grabbed some more toilet paper and returned to his seat next to Dean.

Dean accepted the toilet paper gratefully and quietly blew his nose as John doled up what was left of the grape syrup in the plastic cap. Probably should have washed that first, he thought as Dean dutifully swallowed and made a face.

"Okay, Dean you watch your brother, and Sam you be good. I am going out for an hour."

"Can I come?" Sam asked eagerly.

"No Sammy, I am only going for an hour."

"Why not?"

"Sammy there is a deck of cards in my backpack," interjected Dean. "If you go get them I'll teach you to play something."

Sam glared at his father, but went to the blue backpack on the floor and started rifling through it. John sighed and left forgetting to thank Dean for the distraction. That child was as obstinate as imaginably possible and he was in no mood to butt heads with his youngest. As he stepped out into the cold air, there was snow falling lightly. The cold air attacked his lungs and set him off in an all out coughing fit. His lungs felt constricted and he was breathing heavily. John opened in the door of the Impala and drove silently to the Walmart down the block.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days before Christmas and even at 8:30, Walmart was a zoo. People milled around and John tried to keep his temper in check. The air was a warm and a welcomed change from the cold December outside. Sweat formed on John's brow and he undid his leather jacket. He grabbed a cart and headed immediately to the pharmacy aisle. Grabbing more Children's Tylenol, he also started looking for some cough syrup. The last thing he wanted was to be up all night listening to Dean barking and he was pretty sure there was none left in the motel.

"Eshoooo…. Eshoooo...eghh" John shook his head and sniffed. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand feeling the clamminess of his forehead. Tissues would probably be helpful, he thought tiredly, and selected a bottle from the shelf. Turning to leave that aisle, he was stopped by a female voice.

"You might want some of this.." A young woman with bright red hair was holding out a bottle of Tylenol and one of NyQuil. She smiled sympathetically. He could see she had a toddler in the cart next to her and the cart was nearly toppling over with food and other Christmas supplies.

"Probably a good idea," John said, taking the extra strength Tylenol.

He shook his head as she gestured to the NyQuil, "Nahh it's just me and the kids. Stuff like that makes me fuzzy."

Again she gave him that pitying smile, "Rough time of the year to be sick."

John gave a half-hearted attempt at his most charming smile, "Thanks."

He turned and left the aisle, rolling his eyes as he walked. As though anytime of the year was good to be sick. All he wanted to do was go back to the room and crawl into bed. But there was Christmas. He walked to the toy aisle and threw two boxes of Legos and a snakes and ladders game into the cart. Dean liked Legos right? What was it Sam was rambling about last night? Dinosaurs? He grabbed a package of plastic dinosaurs and also added them to the cart, coughing painfully into his sleeve. He also went to the clothes aisle and picked up two pairs of pyjamas and some socks. Sammy's were getting threadbare and Dean's were getting small.

There was so much stuff rattling around in his head that he was having trouble remembering what he was there for. Tissues… he found the display and threw three boxes in the cart. The five hundred dollars from that poker game last week was still in his wallet and he had a new fake credit cards. He would buy some food and get the hell out of here.

Soup and crackers for himself and Dean, was the first thing on his list. His hand grazed the Campbell's Tomato Rice, but he moved quickly to the chicken noodle and beef vegetable. That was a can of worms he did not want to open, literally. He also grabbed some milk and Kool-Aid, bread, peanut butter and some tinned beans, and spaghetti.

Feeling pretty good about the trip, John walked passed the electronics aisle and stopped in front of a display of portable music players. They were $60.00. Dean had been a good kid these past weeks helping him when Sammy was sick and never once complaining. He had the money…the boys both had warm clothes for the winter, new hats and mitts from Jim… impulsively he reached in the cart and took out one of the Lego kits and replaced it with a one of the walk-mans. As he went to the cash register, he grabbed a bag of gummy bears and one of M&Ms. Once he had paid for the purchases, he left and loaded them into the Impala.

On the way home, he passed Megan's Diner and stopped. He had picked up groceries (sort of), but he was really not in the mood to even dump soup in a bowl and heat it up. It was only 9:00 but if he grabbed lunch now, he might be able sleep till 12 and not have to get up to feed the boys. He walked in and ordered 3 roast beef sandwiches and a cup of coffee to go.

"You sure you don't want some tea hun?" the elderly waitress with a name tag reading 'Doris' asked. "You look like you should be in bed with a cup of lemon tea and honey, instead…"

"Coffee." John interrupted.

"When my son.."

"Coffee is what I need." John's voice was firm. Doris tsked and went to get the order. John's patience was growing thin and by the time he got back to the car he made one last stop to the liqueur store for a bottle of whisky.

Pulling back into his parking space, John sorted out his purchases leaving the candy and presents in the trunk, planning to take everything else inside. He massaged his head and swallowed two of the adult Tylenol, washing it down with the whisky. Grabbing everything, he returned to the motel and repeated the knocking sequence and waited for Dean or Sam to get the door.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Dean who finally opened the door and let his father in. The kid looked miserable, there were dark circles under his eyes and his short hair was sticking up everywhere. Looking for Sam, John saw him sprawled out on the boy's bed, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer blasting ironically from the TV, and the cards spread out on the covers. John immediately flicked off the TV, the noise making his head pound.

"Sam's asleep?"

"Yeah, he's still tired from this weekend a little I think." Dean's voice was so congested it didn't even sound like him. Suddenly he erupted into a coughing fit. The sharp barking noise made John cringe.

"Kay, clean up the cards, kid. Then I have some of that cough stuff for you."

Dean being Dean never made a noise and wordlessly cleaned up the cards as John put the groceries away and arranged the little apothecary on the counter. He poured the correct dose of cough syrup into the little plastic cup and in a glass mixed up some of the Kool-Aid. In another glass he poured up a shot of the whisky and then put the bottle above the cupboard.

"Dean.."

Dean walked over slowly, "Do I have to?" But one sharp look from John, who was already in a foul mood, silenced any more complaints and Dean put his arm out and swallowed the medicine like a soldier swallowing orders. John shot the glass of whisky himself and gave Dean the Kool-Aid to wash the taste down. He then reached out and felt the kid's forehead and was disappointed to find that the Tylenol from earlier had had no effect.

"You must be feeling pretty shi… awful." John caught himself.

Dean didn't say anything. But that was his way. He was silent when he felt the worst.

"I need a nap," John started. "You should get some more sleep too," he said locking the door.

Dean started back to his bed next to Sam.

"You probably should crash in my bed Dean. So Sammy doesn't get sick again."

"Okay."

Dean crawled in bed next to John and all three of them slept through the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Around lunchtime, John heard Sam calling out to Dean. Dean was sprawled across the top covers of the bed, the heavy flannel shirt discarded to the floor with the wool socks. His hand was clutching John's worn USMC shirt.

"Ssshhh Sam.." John cleared his throat. "Dean is having a pretty rough day."

Sam stumbled across the room still in his pyjamas and climbed into the bed next to John.

"I'm hungry. Dean said we can have spaghetti for supper."

"It's only lunchtime dude. How about a sandwich?" He asked remembering the three sandwiches he had picked up earlier.

"Ok, can we have spaghetti for supper?"

"Let's wait till supper to decide that."

John got up. His head felt like there was something squeezing it. "Eshooo...Atchoooo…Atttchooooo..."

He took a handful of tissues and emptied as much of the thick sludge from his head as possible and threw the mess in the trash can. This place is going to be a biohazard when we leave, he thought.

Sam was sitting at the table eying John questioningly. John took out two sandwiches, poured Sam some milk and turned the kettle on for himself. Maybe Doris was right about the tea after all. Both sat down and Sam devoured his meal. John on the other hand could barely force down half. His throat was three times too big, and he got up to grab another Tylenol.

Before he could reach it, he heard Dean hacking up a lung on the bed across the room. He turned and sat down next to Dean and rubbed his back. Through his t-shirt he could feel heat radiating of his thin body.

"Time for some more drugs I think." John mused checking his watch.

After Dean swallowed whatever John gave him in blind faith, John went to his duffle bag and took out a thermometer.

"Okay kiddo, let me have a look here…" Dean made a face that was more characteristic of Sammy, who was currently sitting on the opposite bed watching with concern on his chubby face. After the beep, John looked at it… 101.2. Really not good, he thought to himself.

"You think you feel good enough to eat something?

"I'm not hungry," Dean shook his head feverishly.

"Not even a really small bowl of soup?" John prayed silently he would agree. He felt was to sick himself to argue with Dean, and he realized he had no idea when the kid's last meal had been.

Dean started to shake his head but perhaps it was the look in his father's eyes that made him nod slowly. John smiled thanks and got up, pouring himself the tea. He poured the tin of chicken soup in a saucepan and heated it on the stove. Sam was now seated at the table and was etching something fiercely with crayons in a colouring book.

"Atccchooo… Echooo!" Johns head was spinning with the latest round of sinus trouble. He scrubbed at his nose and wished he had had the foresight to pick up some decongestants instead of popping Tylenol like candy. He poured half of the heated soup in a bowl and placed it on the table just as Dean stumbled over. He added a sleeve of crackers to the centre of the table then asked Sam if he want any. The answer was an emphatic "Nope!" So John joined the boys with the remainder of the soup and some tea.

"What is that?" Sam asked, pointing to the tea.

"Tea."

"Can I try some?"

Dean sputtered a little on his soup, "You won't like it twerp."

"I will!" Sam said indignantly.

In effort to avoid a squabble, John patted his lap and Sam scrabbled up. John held the tea so Sam could get a taste. "Careful, it's hot."

Sam took a mouthful under Dean's watchful eye and to his credit, swallowed it.

"Some more?" John asked.

"No. But I do like it Dean."

John tried not to laugh, and looked at Dean who was smiling wearily and picking at his soup.

"I don't want any more either," Dean mumbled.

"Okay," John decided not to force the issue and cleared up what was left of lunch.

"Can we go outside?" Sam asked.

"Not today. Dean is not feeling good and I'm tired." John explained.

Dean who had been sitting on the edge of the bed got up and walked with determination to the little bathroom. John could hear gagging noises from inside.

Well this is fucking great, John thought. He wasn't even sure Dean had the same thing Sam had had. Meaning all of them might be fighting for the toilet in a day or so. His head was splitting at the thought. Worst of all it was his fault. He had dragged the boys from the house they had been renting in Wisconsin, and his part time job at the garage. He was interrupted by Sammy clinging to his leg, chewing on his chubby fingers.

"Sam. We talked about that." John said impatiently.

Sam's fingers popped out of his mouth like they were on fire. Standing, John poured a glass of water and walked into the bathroom trying not to gag on the smell of sick. When Dean had finished, John looked at the sweating miserable kid in front of him and wanted to cry. Wetting down a cool cloth he cleaned Dean's face and hands and gave him the water to rinse his mouth.

"Sorry…"

"Not your fault." John said as he helped Dean back into his bed.

When Dean was settled with more Tylenol to replace what was lost in the toilet and a bucket placed next to his bed, John looked over at his other child, pyjama clad, unruly hair, wiping his still running nose in on his sleeve.

"Tissues Sam," he barked sounding more irritated than he had intended. John's head throbbed. It was 1:30, and as much as he wanted to sleep, something had to be done with Sam.

Pouring a glass of whisky, subsequently drowning it, pouring another and following suit, John gathered up the dishes from the table and placed them next to the sink.

"How about a bath and getting dressed buddy?" John asked Sam who was attempting to wipe his face with a tissue, possibly making an even larger mess. John coughed harshly into his fist.

"Kay!" Sam said brightly.

Well at least that was easy, John thought, following the four year old into the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

A half an hour later, John and a freshly scrubbed and clothed Sam emerged. Dean was lying in bed reading a comic book, his eyes fluttering as he tried not to fall asleep.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. John and Sam played cards and Dean slept on and off. Supper for Sam was, to his delight, tinned spaghetti. John's stomach rolled as he poured the tin into a bowl for the microwave. Dean listlessly shook his head and John didn't have close to enough energy to repeat the lunch time events. He poured a glass of water and doled out some Tylenol for the both of them, dry swallowing his and watching as Dean followed and drank a mouthful of water.

"Drink some more…" John implored. Dean drank slow sips and finished most of the glass.

After Sam had eaten most of the spaghetti and was intently drawing a picture in an exercise book with crayons, John got up and did the dishes. His hands in the hot water made the rest of him feel cold and he ached for Sam to show some tiredness despite it only being 7 pm. However, kid had napped all morning, and despite his nose was still leaking like a faucet, he was obviously feeling better. John silently wished again that Dean was feeling better as he coughed up phlegm and went to the bathroom to blow his nose for the hundredth time that day. Not that it made any difference, the pressure behind his eyes was making them water and he felt lightheaded and dizzy.

"Sam, put your pyjamas on."

"Already?"

"Want to watch a movie? AChooooooo…Eshhoooo…" John turned on the television to the children's movie of the night...Frosty the Snow Man.

Scrubbing at his forehead, he grabbed the newspaper and lay down on the bed next to Dean. Grudgingly, Sam pulled on his pyjamas and crawled in to the unmade bed, eyes fixed on the cartoon. John put his hand on Dean's head and found it to be warm but not hot. Well that is one relief, John thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Around midnight, John woke up to a thrashing, moaning Dean who was struggling to sit up right. Hazy, John pulled himself up to see Dean's face. His eyes were glassy and there was a look of urgency in them. John grabbed the trash bucket while Dean retched and threw up nothing only the water John had been forcing on him. When Dean finally stopped heaving his face was wet, a mixture of tears, sweat and bile. John picked him up and walked to the kitchen and took the limp boy's temperature. 102.7? That couldn't be right. He didn't feel that warm… John took it again. The same number was flashing manically on the screen. His head was foggy and he stuck the thermometer in his own mouth. Again, probably should have washed it first, he thought. The number was 102. Great. Fucking Great. John coughed weakly. He took two more Tylenol; he was starting to loose count.

"Kay kiddo, we're going to clean you up."

Striping Dean down as he walked to the bathroom and ran what he estimated to be a lukewarm bath. He shut the door, Sam was a sound sleeper but he had a feeling this was going to be a stretch. Wetting a cloth he wiped Dean down and sat him in the cool water. The reaction was as expected. As the water hit Dean's body he struggled, grabbing onto John, nails digging in like a cat. John wasn't sure what hurt worse Dean's frantic scrambling or his desperate crying.

"Dad…Daddy.. Please… pleeease… I want…. Dad please I want mom… please…."

John broke. Everything inside of him fell to pieces and tears formed in his bleary eyes. Unable to find any strength, he watched as Dean scrambled from the water and curled his body into John's kneeling form, coughing pathetically. John just held him, his own fever burning, his eyes, leaking the tears that were welling up from somewhere in his chest. He used the wet face cloth to wash Dean's face and continued to wipe his body down for several minutes, until Dean began to shiver and cry again. Reaching as much as he could take, John wrapped his oldest in a thin hotel towel and sat him on the toilet seat. John himself went back to the main room and changed to a dry t-shirt and sweats, grabbing something similar for Dean.

After Dean was dressed and had drunken half a cup of very diluted Kool-Aid, (John swallowed a glass of the whiskey) both returned to the bed. Dean's eyes shut before John could even lay him down. Then he fell headfirst into a murky sleep, the rest of the night riddled with nightmares and cloudy dreams.

John was lying in the sun. Mary was pregnant. Her belly getting rounder as their child was growing. They were lying in the sun together. It was burning his face and his throat felt raw and dry. They were at the beach and Mary was talking, but John couldn't hear her really, not the words anyhow, her voce was rocking him like waves and he was having a hard time keeping focus on her face. He struggled for what felt like hours in the heat, trying to hold on to her hand, afraid she would leave. And then, it started to rain. A cool rain, that soothed the sunburn and let him see her face again.


	8. Chapter 8

"Rinnnnnng Rinnnnnng"

John awoke with a start to the sound of the phone. He jumped up, head ringing in sync, his cloths wet from sweat. Overall he was feeling less fuzzy and he deduced that the fever from the night before had broken in his sleep. Dean was still asleep and Sam was sitting up in his bed looking apprehensively at the ringing phone, thumb and forefinger jammed in his mouth.

"Hello," John attempted to rasp into the phone, as he pulled Sam's hand out of his mouth.

"Hello," he cleared his throat and tried again. Sam glared at him and climbed off the bed padding his way to the bathroom.

"John?" Bobby Singer's voice came through the machine.

"Yeah," was the grunted response.

"Guess you're still in Maine? You sound like shit."

"Bug the boys picked up," John said trying to keep it short. The fever may have broken but his head was still blocked full and his throat felt swollen and huge.

"Merry Christmas," Bobby said sarcastically. "You still heading this way?"

"Yeah Bobby. Probably after tomorrow though, going to try to sleep the rest of this off, Dean's got a fever too. I want to wait till that is gone."

"Course…" Bobby said thoughtfully. "Sam sick too?"

"Was.." John looked down at Sam, now sitting next to him. "Actually Bobby, you got time to do me a favour and talk to the kid for a bit?"

"Ummm.. Yeah sure, put him on…"

John gave Sam the phone and waked gingerly to the bathroom himself. Turning on the shower he climbed in and quickly washed up. The steam loosened the congestion in his head providing some relief. Once he climbed out, he blew his nose into some toilet paper, several times. For all of three seconds he felt a million times better, but then pressure began to build and he sneezed four times in succession.

" Atchooo..Eshoooo…Atchhhhhhhhoooo…. Chooo.." His head and sinuses filled with the snot again and he hacked tiredly into his elbow. That was short lived, he thought.

Returning to the room where Sam was still talking to Bobby excitedly, John reached his hand out for the phone.

"Daddy is here… 'kay, bye… Merry Christmas." Sam cheerfully handed John the phone.

"Thanks, Bobby, I owe you one. He's bored being stuck in here."

"Yeah, don't worry, you need anything?"

"Nah, Sammy bounced back pretty quick, we'll be fine," John said as he coughed into his shoulder.

"Alright. I also have some stuff I need someone to look at when you come by, not time sensitive. But I'm thinking it is something.."

"Yeah, sure… I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah see you soon."

John hung up the phone.

"So Sammy… breakfast?" John asked mustering as much energy as he could force out.

"Cereal?"

"Sure."


	9. Chapter 9

Two hours later, John and a now bathed and dressed and fed Sam woke up Dean. Still running a low fever, and obviously still uncomfortable, he was understandably cranky. After an argument and some pleading John managed to convince him to swallow some of the children's Tylenol.

"What are we dooooo…eeeetiiiiissshhhooo… what are we doing today?" Dean asked, looking at his father. He climbed out of bed and took a tissue to blow his nose with a congested gurgling sound.

"What do you want to do?" John edged curiously.

"It's Christmas Eve. Bobby said," Sam quipped trying to be helpful.

"Are we leaving today?" Dean clarified further.

John hadn't been planning on it. But Dean was looking better. However the thought crossed his mind that John still wasn't feeling well enough to drive to South Dakota with a still sick Dean and an inevitably bored Sammy.

"No, I have some work to do. Then we will go to Bobby's for a bit before your school starts again."

"Okay then," Dean looked at Sammy then at the table. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Toast?" John asked, relieved that Dean was showing signs of recovery.

After Dean ate half a slice of toast, indicating he wasn't quite as hungry as he had thought, he and Sam played Go Fish with the deck of cards. John was scouring the newspaper looking for a case, or a job. He thought of calling Bobby and asking what he had been talking about earlier this morning.

"SAM that is not the rules! You cannot keep changing them!"

John was pulled from his thoughts by the squabble that had erupted before him. Dean was red faced and clearly annoyed by whatever Sam had tried to do.

"Dean!" John barked. His voice cracked. He rubbed his temple. They were getting restless and so was he for that matter.

"He…" Dean started.

"I don't care," John growled.

"Atchooooooo!" Dean sneezed loud and uncovered, spraying his hands and the cards in front of him.

"Gross," John said as he grabbed the tissues from the table and offered them to Dean. Guilt panged through him as he remembered Dean was only eight and sick and probably didn't have his usual saint-like patience with his little brother. He reached over and felt Dean's forehead again, it wasn't too warm.

"Gross," Sam echoed.

"Shut up twerp!"

"Okay boys, that is ENOUGH!" John roared as Sam's eyes filled with tears of anger.

He needed to diffuse this. Now.

"Let's get some lunch," John looked at his watch it was 12 o'clock. That might explain the general moods here.

"Can we go to the park?" Sam asked. There was a small park right behind the motel with swings and a slide. There had been little snow this year in Maine, and the swings were still up.

"Lets get lunch, then me and you can go to the park and Dean can rest here," John offered.

"I want to go too," Dean's face was still red, but the anger in his eyes had subsided.

"Dean, you were pretty sick last night…" John rasped. He realized his voice did not sound as healthy as he wanted it to.

"I feel better."

"I know you do..."

"I'll wear three sweaters," Dean bargained.

"Fine." Johns' head was throbbing. He had no energy to argue. It was easier anyway, when the three of them were together. There was less for John to worry about.

Ten minutes later the boy were both dressed in jackets and snow pants, (despite Dean's eye rolling) boots and hats and mitts. Fresh air was probably good for all of them instead of being cooped up with all the germs, John thought.

After 20 minutes of watching Sam and Dean run around, Dean pushing Sam on the swings, and trying to get higher than Sam on the other one, John blew his nose for the ninth the time.

"Sam! Dean! Let's go!" John ordered and walked to the Impala as the boys ran after him.

John pulled in to the parking lot for Megan's Diner. He was hungry, and tired and Sam and Dean's sniffling from being outside in the cold was grating his nerves. As Sam got out of the back he took a napkin from the glove box and wiped the kid's nose. He cringed at the amount of snot he had seen in the last week, and then cringed at himself for being so irritated. Sam wriggled out of his grip and the three of them walked in and sat down in a booth.

"What can I get you boys?" It was Doris from the other day.

"Coffee?" She smiled as she handed John and Dean a menu.

"Yeah, and two milks for the boys," John tried to smile back wearily.

"Can I have chocolate?" Sam asked quickly.

"Yeah sure… Dean?" It was Christmas Eve after all.

"Hot chocolate?" Dean asked, his voice uncomfortably full of congestion.

"Sure," John nodded to Doris.

"One coffee, one hot chocolate and one chocolate milk," she confirmed. "I'll be back to get the rest."

"Sam, what do you think you want," John asked.

"Do they have grilled cheese?"

" Yeah… I'd say," John tried to look through the menu. His sinuses were itching again and he sneezed into his shoulder.

"And fries?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You pick," his head was leaned against the blue vinyl. He hadn't even touched the menu.

"I'm having the chilli," John supplied.

Dean shrugged noncommittally. John felt his chest tighten. Luckily Doris returned with the drinks before John could loose his temper.

"Decisions made?" She asked pen and paper in hand.

"Two grilled cheese sandwiches with fries, and an order of the chilli. Thanks.,." John said, still glaring irately at Dean.

"Alright! Back in a few."

"Uncle Bobby said he got a dog. I can play with him," Sam started talking, his wide eyes looking around the Diner. "Can we watch the snowman movie again tonight?"

"No. There is a different one on tonight," Dean responded. " Eshoooooooo… Atchooooo…"

Dean sniffed hard and wetly. John took some napkins out of the dispenser and put them in Dean's hand. Dean blew hard, and moaned faintly. He looked at the now crumpled napkin in his hand and looked at John.

John took the napkin and shoved it in his jacket pocket and looked at Dean pityingly. He was looking a little flushed again. John started to feel guilty. Maybe the twenty minutes in the park wasn't a good idea.

"Drink some of the hot chocolate Dean," John said quietly, noticing the kid still had his jacket and the two sweaters that John had made him wear. It wasn't that cold in here.

Dean took a few slow sips of the drink. Sam talked about the dinosaur movie and Christmas and going to Bobby's until Doris came with the food. Sam dove into his food, obviously hungry, leaving a silence where John was alone in his thoughts. By the time John refocused on the table, Sam was done with the sandwich, crusts and all, and was making a dent on the fries. Dean on the other hand had only eaten a few bites of the sandwich and was picking at the fries. As hungry as John was, the chilli was hot and burned his already sore throat, and he could only eat half of it.

"How are you feeling?" John asked Dean, afraid of the answer. He reached over to his plate and ate a few of the fries that Dean was moving around.

"Fine," Dean wouldn't meet John's eyes.

"The truth," John ordered.

"Achy again," Dean admitted, eyes staring at the mug in front of him.

John sighed. This was never going to end.

"Anywhere specific?"

"Not really….behind my eyes really hurts," Dean offered.

"Okay."

When Doris returned, John ordered three pieces of apple pie to go and paid the bill. Dean hadn't eaten very much in the last few days and John hoped maybe later that night he might be able to entice him with desert at the very least.

"You're oldest doesn't look to well. Sin for him to be sick on Christmas," Doris said as she checked him in.

"Ummm…" John cleared his throat, watching through the window as Dean buckled Sam into the back seat of the Impala.

"They are very well behaved," she continued.

"Most times," John said, this time turning towards her.

"Yeah well they are kids," she laughed and disappeared into the kitchen.

She returned seconds later carrying the pie and a small takeout bowl.

"In case he is hungry later tonight," she said, with that same sympathetic look that the lady at the Walmart had given him.

"I had three kids. I know how hard it is to look after them when you are feeling great yourself."

"Thanks," John gave his best effort to appear grateful. Because he was grateful. But he was tired and restless and he had really hoped Dean was feeling better. At this rate they would be here for several more days instead of leaving tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

They got back to the motel and John opened the door for the boys. Dean walked in, shed his jacket and snow pants, and crawled into the bed closest to the door. Sam looked at John, his eyes questioning, thumb in mouth.

"Sammy if I have to ask you one more time to stop that, you will regret it," John growled.

"Dean, get a shower, keep the water cool," Dean looked like he might protest, "Now."

John coughed into his sleeve. Dean slowly moved toward the bathroom stripping as he went.

"Sam pick up the clothes," John ordered as he pulled the covers of the beds up so they were sort of made.

Sam put all of Dean's discarded clothes on the bed as John folded the sweaters and put the dirty clothes in the laundry pile. He riffled through Dean's duffle bag looking for something that could pass as pyjamas. Fuck. He was going to need to do laundry soon. Hopefully it could wait till Bobby's. Grabbing the sweatpants from last night and a new t-shirt he knocked on the bathroom door and opened it.

"Clothes are on the toilet," he said, trying to ignore the harsh coughing from behind the shower curtain.

When Dean appeared 10 minutes later dressed and eyes bright, John decided it was time to assess the damage.

"Temperature time," he said, bringing over the Tylenol, thermometer and the cough syrup.

Dean climbed under the covers of the bed closest to the door and wordlessly took the thermometer and stuck it under his tongue. When it finally beeped, John reluctantly looked. 102.6. Awesome. Fuck. Okay, this is was not good.

"What is it?" Sam was sitting next to John on the bed.

"102.6," John repeated the numbers.

"Does that mean Dean has to go to bed?" Sam asked, obviously disappointed that Dean might have to go to bed earlier than him on Christmas Eve.

"I'd say that means Dean wants to go to bed."

Dean said nothing but swallowed both of the medicines that John doled out for him.

"Drink this," John handed him some water.

Dean managed to get half of it down before lying down and falling into a fevered sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the afternoon and the night passed pretty much the same as the day before. John's head was still aching, and he tried to medicate it with the Tylenol. Dean slept in a fitful slumber of tossing and turning and congested snoring. Sam played with his army men quietly and looked through his colouring book for an uncoloured picture.

John was done with the newspaper, and was leafing through his journal, making notes. But mostly he was alone in his thoughts. And that was a place John did not like to be. He usually didn't have the time between hunting and the boys. But today his mind drifted to the boys. Dean would be in a new school again after Christmas. Where? John wasn't sure yet. Graham Saunders, an old marine buddy, had a cabin in Indiana that was close to a town. He could likely get a job in the community there for a bit. He could use the time to look for the evil thing that killed Mary. There it was, always his thoughts drifted back to there. It was an obsession. Really he knew it was. He got up and got a glass of whiskey, trying to medicate the emptiness he was feeling.

Sometime after supper, John had given Dean some more drugs (though the fever had not dropped nor climbed), and him self several more glasses of whisky. Sam was getting ready for bed. John turned on the TV for Sam. The Night Before Christmas echoed through the room, and Sam curled up next to him on the bed furthest from the door.

"Daddy," Sam started, "is Dean going to be better tomorrow?"

"I don't know Sammy. I hope so."

"Oh," there was a pause then Sam timidly asked, "Does Santa still come when you and Dean are sick?"

Startled, John searched the ceiling for an appropriate answer. He had almost forgotten that Sammy still believed in Santa. Dean definitely didn't, John thought morosely, Dean's childhood hadn't given him that luxury. Sam was smart. He wouldn't believe much longer either in this lifestyle.

"Yeah Sam, I think Santa still comes if you are sick," John half answered the question.

"I forgot to tell him where we are. So did Dean…. Uncle Bobby said that he told Santa to come to his house if Santa didn't know where to go," Sam's owlish eyes looked up at John for confirmation.

"Bobby is pretty smart Sam. You will have to say thank you when you see him. But I told Santa where we are, so hopefully he finds it."

Sam seemed to accept this and continued to watch the movie while John woke Dean up to give him some more Tylenol and cough syrup. He tried to get the kid to eat some of the soup he warmed up, or even some of the pie, but Dean was too miserable. The fever had climbed a notch despite the drugs and the cough was worse than before.

Later that night, John had moved over to Dean's bed and was lying against the headboard. Dean's head on his chest, he could feel his fever still burning strong. Sam woken because of one of Dean's coughing fits and had crawled over to the bed as well.

"What if you or Dean need me?' he had asked, eyes blazing with fear for his brother. Unable to comfort him, John simply nodded.

Early in the morning the fever had reached 103 and John was really starting to worry. Sinus infection maybe? Strep throat? Dean had not complained about his throat. If it got any higher, or didn't break by 7 am he was going to the doctor. His watch beeped and he moved to get the Tylenol. Dean murmured at his movement and latched his arms and legs around John reminding John more of Sammy than Dean.

Sighing John carried the eight year old to the table and coaxed him awake to drink some of the syrup.

"Daddy," Dean mumbled though the fever haze, "Dadddy…don't go… I don't feel good."

John couldn't answer. He settled for carrying the child back to the bathroom and wetting a cloth with cold water and wiping his neck and face, trying to ignore the tears in Dean's eyes.

When they had returned to the bed, Dean still clinging to him, John was lost in his thoughts. Worry, self pity and a longing for Mary, for his old life, for him not to be alone. He loved his kids. He really did, but he was never good at this stuff. Tucking kids in, soothing their fevers, buying Christmas presents? And the more he was around them; the more he missed having Mary there. There was one time, right after Mary had died, Sam was still a baby and had developed an ear infection. John remembered and hated that helpless feeling as Sam screamed and cried then, and it had not gotten easier to deal with these things alone. Dean was a good kid, Sam too, but he was alone in protecting them. And there was so much to protect them from.

An hour later the fever broke. Dean sweat though his pyjamas and the sheets, causing John to move them all to the other bed and find something dry for the kid to wear. John fell in to a relieved sleep, one arm slung like a shield across both boys.


	12. Chapter 12

John woke up to Dean trying to wiggle out from under his arm. It was sunny outside. Through bleary eyes he could see the light through the crack in the curtains.

"Feeling better?" he croaked trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah, ehh ehh.." Dean coughed at the words, but it was a dry cough, not the urgent barking one of the last few days. He smiled at his father, still pale but obviously feeling better.

"Thank god. Where is your brother?"

Sam was in the kitchen area, looking in the cupboards.

"Sammy?" John asked.

"He couldn't find us," Sam was trying not to be upset. John could tell.

"You check the Impala?" John asked with a wink at Dean.

Sam's eyes flashed with excitement as he rushed to get his boots on.

"Coat too!" John ordered.

"You wait in here today," he said to Dean while he grabbed the car keys and put his own boots on.

Sam and John went to where the Impala was parked in the front lot and John unlocked the doors to for Sam to see the back seat where, during the night, he had placed the toys and candy. Sam's eyes were wide and excited a huge grin across his face.

"Are these for me?"

"I'd say. They are on your seat. I think you should share the game with your brother."

"Yeah.." Sam said distractedly fingering the plastic on the dinosaurs.

"Take that inside and show your brother, I'll get his."

When John came in Dean had opened the package of dinosaurs and he and Sam were playing. John laid the walk-man and the M&Ms in front of Dean. Dean's reaction wasn't quite what was expected. He looked confused.

"It's for music," John supplied.

"Yeah…thanks," Dean grinned, the freckles on his face stood out on his still pale skin. His green eyes were sparkling. Dean's hair was darkening, no longer as blond as when he was Sam's age, but the eyes and that grin, both so much like Mary.

John would never be able to forget.

"Yeah, well… if I catch you sleeping with it on, you will loose it."

John handed the boys the pyjamas and socks.

"From me," He said mostly for Sam's benefit. "You are going to throw out the ones you have on Sam, they pretty much have holes in them."

Sam nodded, totally engrossed in his new toys. Dean got up and smiled. He found his back pack, which had been tossed under the bed, and took out an AC DC tape that he had bought at a yard sale and gave it to John. He had also come up with a new colouring book for Sam. Sam grinned so did John. Sam also had presents, two pictures he had drawn. For the first time in a while, John felt content. Maybe the mistakes that he had made were not that bad, they were together at least. This life, it was only temporary, he thought. By next year they could have a tree and things could be settled.

The next day they were packed and loaded in the Impala, headed west toward Sioux Falls. John's head was still clogged a bit and Dean still had a lingering cough, but mostly they were better. Sam was in the back seat playing with his dinosaurs and army men; apparently there was a war between the two sides. John smiled in the mirror.

Dean was picking at the walk-man, in the front seat, when he looked up at his father, "Thanks, Dad."

"Yeah," John said and smiled. "I meant what I said about falling asleep listening to that, I need you to be able to wake up if there is trouble."

"I know Daaad," Dean sighed.

"And when we get to Bobby's you are going to start running with me again."

"I know."

John smiled. The training would wait till Dean's cough went away, but John was pretty relieved that Dean was getting over whatever virus that had hijacked their Christmas. They were a family and they had to watch out for each other, and John was happy that he had his boys, and that they had each other.

END!


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